Long Mixed bag Poems
Long Mixed bag Poems. Below are the most popular long Mixed bag by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mixed bag poems by poem length and keyword.
Its' that time of year again..
I'm trying to find a harmonious rhyme.
How 2020 has gone so quick..
Can you beleive it's Chrismas time!?
It's been a really hard year..
That couldn't be more true.
But I wouldn't have gotten through it..
And that's purely because of you.
It's been a mixed bag of emotions..
Looking back I have moments of regret.
Thankyou for standing by me.
This year I will never forget.
It will always be part of history..
The word I hate to say..
The virus that changed the world..
And took so many lifes away.
It stole away our freedom..
Caused poverty, anger and despair.
People have forgotten how to smile..
It will take time and patience to repair.
So as the new year approaches..
Who knows what's around the bend..
But there is one thing I can count on..
And that is you're with me my dear friend.
Cut out the bad part
Just like cancer
The perfect solution
The ultimate answer
Oh, if only I could isolate
The purest property
Maybe I’d get a handle on
My inhumanity
Weed out the bad stuff
Chaff from wheat
Make the good half
The thing complete
Oh, if only we could separate
The water from the oil
The consummate broth, the ideal brew
Before it started to boil
One drop taints the mixture –
Part and parcel of the mass
The formula is its element
One pupil is the class
I’m a mixed bag, a curate’s egg –
Take the bad with the good
It’s only in this way modern man
Can ever be understood
Cut out the bad part
Just like cancer
The seismic solution
The cosmic answer
There’s Stephen Hawking
In his old wheelchair
Who would believe all infinity
Could be rattling around in there?
Since you have been gone
A lot of water has passed under the bridge
A mixed bag of events have occurred
Leaving behind earth-shaking calamities
Difficult to quantify
As confusion like whirlwind
Keeps spreading and threatening
The very fabric of National Cohesion
Nobody knows what to believe anymore
As looters of our commonwealth
Keep spewing unbelievable theories
From two sides of their mouths
Shamelessly going back To their vomit of years gone by
To satisfy the cravings of their current masters
While citizens continue to wallow in abject poverty
Confused and traumatized
Where their next meals will come from
As their purchasing power has been eroded
By the demise of the national currency
Clubbed to death by inflation
And market forces
Never experienced in our chequered history
46 moons following the 5th winter
democracy has yet offered its charis for partaking.
"Gather yee faithful slaves," "drink from thy cup," it beckons.
Having danced to the sweet empty promises,
and wore the affiliated regalia of sheer stupidity, it is time to proclaim, how deep it goes.
A manifestation, of a prior auction where rights have already been sold for less than 3 silvers.
Multitudes, from all corners of the fire nation, gather in the bare mushroom of a scorching sun,
Ready to cast lots, and choose the next captain for the ship engulfed in fire.
Each slave, convinced of the prowess and abilities of their captain.
"A" argues, "he is experienced and knows the routes to steer us out of danger and lead us to a safe harbor."
While "B" laments, "though we may seem lost, he still knows the route that leads to Canaan."
Another proclaims, "it is better to redirect the ship back to Egypt; at least we ate meat that compensated the lashes on the back."
Either could be right or wrong, but then again what defines a right or wrong?
Perhaps it's better to commit the sin of indifference, and watch from the terraces as "D" suggests?
Either way, every option is a covenant in itself,
A pact made by man to a fellow Adam.
A choice that defines a mixed bag of unknowns to be unleashed in the next unforeseeable future.
Welcome to the covenant of choosing a lesser Devil.
In prison, and bereft of all defence,
But my Healer, graver than ever ere,
Swirls his chair round, yon of window to stare
As if to get inspired from Providence.
More of a dumb than mute, I curse my fate,
But happy he feels that it’s my left hand,
We’ll amputate it if we cannot mend,
What, what? I ask, my mouth an open gate.
We’ll start with anti-Cox, let it take long,
If you stick to treatment, you’ll sure get cured,
Soft tissue bone cancer I hope it’s not,
It looked he played a loose game of Ping Pong,
But what’s not in one’s hand ought 'tbe endured,
He vaguely kept everything to my lot.
Vague were his ways, vague as his weird know-how—
Of kind that make from mole hill huge mountain,
I ask him once again to well explain,
Here’s what he said with flourish and a bow:
There’s a graveyard of local infection,
And a cyst envelopes it like a fort,
Fight ensues, there’s settlement out-of-court,
Bur why worry it all, time to take action.
The cyst was hence removed, its stems and roots,
Biopsy tests done still gave not a clue,
But all follow up had to be gone through,
Cost and concern, me left with bitter fruits,
Does today’s tech help, hinder all the more?
A mixed bag of debates rage—needless lore.
_______________________________________
Crown of sonnets | 03.11.2012, revised July 2023|
Poet’s note: Here are sonnets VII and VIII of a sequel of ten sonnets constituting one single poem called a crown of sonnets. The last line of the preceding sonnet is repeated as the first line of the next sonnet, but not verbatim; nor is the first line of the first sonnet is repeated as the last line of the tenth as is. The sestets are either a quartet and a couplet or two sets of three-lined Terza Rima. Hurt is the place from where light enters, and it did, I realized after my long-drawn medical treatment.
Get away,
a fuel for emotion,
commotion of the Louvre
lifted from its demure, cinematic complacency;
someone plays the fool, the jester, wearing a crown
that doesn’t belong on the pumpkin’s head.
Get away;
chasing the bag of bones mutt down the street,
offering him nothing but your feet; to be gotten
is all the fleabag wants; cool water and chow.
Lies down, paw on vagrant’s thigh, licks empty hand.
A getaway we much prefer, a mountain retreat,
the pink rose and plumes of smoke at the peak,
a rustic cabin with couple-amenities, serenity,
closeness, places to go, to play, to eat, to spend.
Get away - a cataclysm, a gotcha, a zone.
A mixed bag of razors and diamond candy.
The Louvre, my love closed. A tourist trapped.
I got a call from an angel
Floating on a cloud.
I made her laugh with the last message I sent her.
Misinterpreted messages lost in the light of the sun.
With ears at attention there was a brief silence.
Walking through the hall of infatuation.
She made me smile.
My hearts done none stop jumping jacks since the first time I saw her smile.
I told her about a dream I had.
Changing into something a bit more subtle.
We back peddled to the day we first met.
Just before the first date, but right after the third date.
The first moment that felt like we ascended.
The way time always seems to fly when were together.
The songs that describe exactly what it feels like to deeply understand.
The breaks between the bass where our hearts completely zoned out in a full day dream.
Knowing the words to every song that played.
Selectively introverted to the world around.
A mixed bag in the variables of comfort.
An audience of denim in a world filled with leggings.
Even in silence I send my prayers.
To an angel whom answers, as well as makes calls of her own
Methinks there are many of us who have given up on us.
They say that these are the last days of the USA as we have known it.
It's possible that they are right, but methinks that they are giving up too soon.
Giving up I say on America like Jonah of the Bible had given up on Nineveh.
America is a mixed bag of ideas and opinions, many of which are protected by
the US Constitution, and in my opinion, these are NOT the last days of America.
I do not know if 'it's the 7th ending stretch or the bottom of the ninth, 2 outs,
2 strikes, but I do know that the game is NOT over. Moreover, you and I are still
on deck to do our part. The aforementioned city-state of Nineveh was in God's
mind a candidate for mercy. However, in the mind of Jonah, those people were
candidates for judgment and destruction. A couple of weeks ago in my dear
city, one man beat another man to death. That was evil. Yesterday, I saw a
news clip from another city of a man being robbed and beaten to death. They
took $1. That was evil. In our Region, a man found $5000 in an envelope, and
he is seeking the owner. If he does not locate the true and rightful owner,
he will donate his find to charity. That is genuine goodness. Such goodness
can be multiplied many times. With all that I see wrong with America, I dread
to think of a world without an America.
123119PoSoupCtest,Whitman-Inspired Uplifting Poetry, C. Devonshire,3P
I find it fascinating how the human mind ponders
the origin and shape of ideas
and how everyone
wanders.
I wonder why I
can’t help but think
in terms of rhythm and rhyme
when oftentimes others
prefer a more subtle approach
to how their thoughts are imperceptibly
dreamed, derived, or discovered.
They say everyone's chemistry is a mixed bag
of good and bad, sour, sweet, sad, mad and
lugubrious to laughably glad.
And I confess I don't know much
about psychology, psychiatry, or the brain
but this I know like the moon that glows:
the mind is a wondrous, thunderous thing.
So, if you're anything like me and
hope to see
the intricacies and mysteries
of the human mind,
better
take a step back
as a matter of fact, finding
answers may be lying
still,
undefined.
Upon reflection looking back
Being I as a person as you yourself are
The past is a mixed bag no matter
who you are
It wasn't all good likewise I couldn't
have been all that bad either
Especially when it comes to the bad
they more than any other probably
weren't
And the older I get and more life experience
I gain over time using golf as a metaphors
to explain in actual reality is this
If I went for a lesson and someone of
me thereafter enquirer taking the time
me to ask
What if anything of any value did you
indeed learn or were you taught from
your coach today
Well the 1 thing that stood out that
made perfect sense which I kind of
in fact already knew
Was when he instructed me to
lighten my grip as I am holding on
way to hard and I also need to relax
as I am far way to tense
And when it comes to going with the
flow and getting into the swing of things
Everything becomes so much easier and
flow's more naturally once we ourselves
accept and rather choose to follow the
path of least resistance
And acceptance as such doesn't actually
mean you have accepted the fact that
whatever has happened actually has
But rather what acceptance actually
means is until you truly actually accept
in the most literal sense
There is no possiblity you can in fact
actually move on or forward